


don't know if i'm coming across

by Addison R (beyond_belief)



Category: Jaws (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Implied future threesome, M/M, Multi, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Addison%20R
Summary: Hooper doesn't leave Amity right away.
Relationships: Ellen Brody/Martin Brody, Ellen Brody/Martin Brody/Matt Hooper, Martin Brody/Matt Hooper
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	don't know if i'm coming across

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ionthesparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionthesparrow/gifts).



"Thought you'd be heading out by now," Martin says when he answers the door. He leans against the doorjamb and folds his arms over his chest, smiles down at Matt where he's standing on the second-to-last step. 

"Well, I thought we could make one more night of it." He holds up the wine, one bottle in each hand again, and gives Martin a look he thinks reads as hopeful, but not trying too hard about it. "Or maybe two nights."

"Surprised there's any left in town to buy." The very corner of Martin's mouth quirks into something close to a smile. He's not in his uniform anymore tonight, instead jeans and a t-shirt. His arms are tan. The sunburn on his nose is peeling slightly.

"Honey," he calls behind him into the house. "Is there enough dinner left that Hooper can get something to eat?"

"Of course." Ellen appears in the doorway, putting a hand on Martin's shoulder. She smiles warmly at Matt. "I was just starting to put it away, the potatoes are still warm. Stop standing here and let him in, honestly, Martin."

The house is in just as much of a shambling disarray as the last time Matt was here: the kids' toys everywhere (he nearly trips on a small car; Martin and Ellen sidestep it without even looking down), stacks of folded laundry on kitchen chairs, bottle opener still on the dining room table. It's nearly nine o'clock, so he figures Michael and Sean are in bed. He can hear the television on in the small living room. One of the dogs runs through. 

"You didn't wear a tie this time," Martin says, at the same time that Ellen says, "I thought you were going on a research boat."

"My tie got ruined, and I missed the boat." Matt sets the wine on the table, then grabs the corkscrew and starts opening a bottle. "Also the motel rented out my room to someone else," he adds, unpeeling the foil in a long ribbon, "so part of the reason I'm here is to beg use of your sofa for the night."

Martin chuckles as though he thinks it's funny. Ellen claps him on the shoulder and goes into the kitchen, calling back, "Matt, how many sandwiches do you want?"

"One is fine." 

"Here, you're going to slice your thumb off," Martin says, leaning in close and taking the bottle and corkscrew right from Matt's hands. "And begging is unnecessary, the sofa's yours as long as you need it - but beware the boys like to get up at sunrise and run around screaming directly outside the windows."

"Michael's recovered all right?"

The cork releases with a dull pop. "Like it never happened." 

"Kids," Matt chuckles. 

"Matt," Ellen says, at his elbow with a plate. "Sit. Eat. Drink."

"Thanks." Deciding to take the chance, he kisses her cheek. Both she and Martin blush. Matt feels his own cheeks redden, feels heat creeping up his neck. 

"Well, where's mine?" Martin asks after a second.

Matt clears his throat. He kisses Martin's cheek. Then he sits down to eat the turkey sandwich and neat scoop of mashed potatoes. 

Martin and Ellen watch; Martin with that same bemused expression he'd worn the first time Matt brought wine. The look on Ellen's face is slightly more pointed - her gaze moves from Matt to her husband and back again, and then she fills her glass. "Now that both of you are here, I'd like to hear what happened on the boat - was it really a Great White, like you thought?"

"It was," Martin answers, since Matt's chewing. "Hours of waiting is mostly what happened on the boat."

"Hours of Quint ordering us around," Matt interjects. 

"Knot-tying."

Matt pauses with his spoon in the potatoes. "I think it might even have put me off going out on the ocean for a while." 

"No," Martin laughs, while Ellen's eyes widen. 

"Well, all right, maybe not." 

"And when you killed the shark?" Ellen asks. Matt sees her stroke a slow hand over Martin's bare arm. 

"That was all Martin," Matt says, and watches Ellen's grip tighten. "I was in the water, hiding, after the shark destroyed the cage."

"Weren't you scared?"

"That it would come down after me? Terrified." He feels a prickle of the cold fear now, even just remembering it, and takes a large swallow of wine. Being in the scuba gear, on the ocean floor, even being around a shark - that he was somewhat used to. Waiting to die - that's something Matt hopes he never gets used to. "But that doesn't mean I'm done with sharks."

Martin laughs at that, waving a hand at him before taking another long swallow of wine. "I'd say I never want to so much as look at the ocean again, except now that we've faced one of the worst things it has to offer, I feel almost indifferent towards it." 

"The giant squid would never come as close to shore as the Great White did," Matt says, as straight-faced as he's able. 

Martin throws the cork at him. 

"How'd you end up doing this?" Ellen asks. She settles her chin on her hand. "At the Institute, I mean."

Matt finishes off his plate as he tells her about the paper he wrote in college, the professor who'd mentored him, the fact that he didn't ask to be paid much. Martin's heard it before, of course, but he listens with an interested expression just the same. By the time Matt's finished, the first bottle of wine is empty, and Martin's pouring the beginnings of the second into his glass. "I think we could go into the living room now," he says, and picks up both his glass and the bottle and walks away. Ellen looks amused, and follows. 

Hoping to be a decent guest, Matt takes his dinner plate into the kitchen before he joins them. The living area is small and cluttered, more toys scattered around. He watches Martin toss a small football and a few matchbox cars towards a basket in the corner, and mostly land them. "Sorry it's such a mess," Ellen says dyly, as she moves an armful of throw pillows and blankets from the sofa. "Here, I'll take the -" she gestures at the stuffed rabbit seated in the armchair.

"No, he's okay," Matt laughs. "We can share."

Martin tosses another matchbox car towards the basket, misses, and shrugs. "Probably the wine. Hooper, come here."

"What, me?" Matt asks, because he thought maybe he'd sit with the bunny in the armchair, but once he's within Martin's reach, hands pull him close by the waist. He puts his own hand on Martin's warm shoulder. "Hello, Martin, have you had too much to drink?"

"No." The hands tighten slightly. "You would stop me, right, if this was a poor move on my part?" 

"I would stop you," Matt confirms. He glances at Ellen, who looks comfortable on the sofa with her glass in hand, her bare feet propped up on the coffee table. 

She lifts her eyebrows at him and smiles. "I'd like to see what the two of you do next."

What happens next is Martin lifting Matt's glasses from his face, and setting them on the table without letting Matt move a step. "My glasses…" he says, reaching after them reflexively, only for Martin to take his hand instead and put it back on his shoulder. 

Matt's kissed men before, mostly in bars or in alleys behind bars, usually after a quantity of alcohol, and once after sharing a joint with the guy who blew him post-smoke. He hadn't necessarily _liked_ any of them, not the way he likes Martin. Or Ellen. Martin _and_ Ellen. 

Martin kisses deeply right out of the gate, his tongue stroking over Matt's tongue, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. Matt feels dizzy with the feel of it, or maybe the lack of oxygen.

"Please tell me to leave now if this isn't what both of you want," he manages to say when Martin's ravaging of his mouth has ceased. 

"Far from it," Martin replies, hands unbuttoning Matt's shirt. 

"My buttons," Matt mumbles nonsensically, then groans as Martin cups his dick through his cords. "Oh, fuck."

From the sofa, Ellen asks, "Martin, don't you think we should go in the bedroom before you suck his cock? With a door, one that closes?", and Matt groans, his head swimming again.

"The bedroom that's right across the hall from the kids?" Martin squeezes Matt's thigh. "I think Hooper can stay quiet. You can be quiet, right, Hooper?"

"I can be quiet, Chief," Matt says, although he'd say anything in this moment if it meant Martin didn't stop. 

Martin doesn't stop. Martin walks him backwards to the armchair with the stuffed rabbit, which he tosses aside before pushing Matt down. Then Martin gets down on his knees before holding a finger to his lips, the universal _sssh_. 

Matt nods furiously, heat curling up his neck into his face, blood rushing in his ears. He imagines being thirty feet beneath the surface of the ocean, but it doesn't cool him any. The television is showing the evening news, but the sound is low. He thinks he can hear the water outside, the shift of Martin's knees on the worn carpet, the soft inhalation Ellen takes when Martin undoes Matt's slacks. 

It's a struggle to stay quiet after that; Matt bites at his own fingers. Thinks about shark guts and severed heads in an attempt not to come almost the second he feels Martin's mouth, silky and wet-hot. His toes curl inside his boots. 

"One for the books, I'd say," he hears Ellen murmur, and then Martin hums in amusement around Matt's cock and he'd swear his eyes are rolling back in his head. Forget an ocean full of predators, he's going to die right here with Harry Reasoner talking in the background. 

Martin goes slowly, moves slowly. He wraps a hand tightly around the base of Matt's cock. The heat of impending orgasm is building in Matt's belly, spiraling around his hips. It's a struggle not to fuck Martin's face but the grip on his cock is enough to stop him from moving too much. "Christ, Martin," he groans, as his free hand strokes over Martin's occupied cheek. 

Then orgasm rushes up and closes over his mind and drags him under. His toes curl inside his boots again; the ground could shift under his feet for all he can tell. 

When Matt takes his hand away from his mouth there are indentations of his teeth in his skin, red dashes curved ahead of the middle knuckle of his pointer finger. Martin's sitting back on his heels, pink in the face and wiping a palm over his mouth. "Wow," Matt says dumbly. He sucks in a deep breath to fill his aching lungs.

"I hope you've enjoyed Amity," Martin replies, completely straight-faced, and refills his wineglass as Matt tries to smother his laughter. 

"Martin, honestly," Ellen scolds. Matt rolls his head against the back of the chair to look over at her. Surely more of the buttons on her blouse had been done up when she sat down. He takes another deep breath, looks at Martin, looks at where the tightness of his jeans disputes the ease with which he's swallowing the wine.

"Can I, uh - help you both out? In some way?" Matt asks, even though he's not sure he can move.

"Tomorrow," Ellen says. "The boys are going over to one of Michael's friends' house. All afternoon, through dinner."

That's a lot of hours. Matt takes another shaky breath, reaches to steal Martin's wineglass and take a sip. 

Ellen stands and stretches. Then she leans down to brush a kiss over Matt's mouth, then Martin's. "I'll find you some sheets for the couch," she says over her shoulder as she walks from the room. 

"Might as well take your pants off," Martin says, one hand on Matt's knee as he rocks back onto his heels and then up onto his feet in one smooth motion. "The sun cuts through that window early; you'll practically roast if you don't."

"Okay." He's almost startled to realize he's still sitting with his dick out. He remedies that, then struggles out of the cords as Martin watches in amusement. Ellen returns with bedding in a neat pile. "Thank you."

"You can stay as long as you like, we mean it." She turns the television off with a click and there's the odd hum of the screen fading out as she smiles at him. "Goodnight, Matt."

"Uh, goodnight." 

Martin takes the glass and bottle away somewhere, disappearing silently. Matt puts his glasses back on, then shakes a worn topsheet out over the sofa cushions. "Sorry if the boys wake you up early," Martin says behind him.

"No, it's fine." Matt shrugs out of his shirt, leaves it with the cords over the arm of the chair. With the television off, the sound of the water is even more apparent, which he doesn't mind. He likes falling asleep to it. "I'll, uh - I'll make the coffee if I'm the first one up."


End file.
